gia đình
by Chi okami 31
Summary: What if after that fateful night at the circus, Artemis took took Dick in instead of Batman? How would his live look like growing up in the slums of Gotham?


**Disclaimer: I just turned 15 today. Do you really think I could own Young Justice?**

**~Prologue~ **

"_I think it's time for practice." _

"_Is there a reason why this costume has to be so colorful?" _

"_Because when I see you up there Richard, you make me think of a little robin."_

"_Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages. I present to you the fearless, Flying, Graysons!"_

_Creeeeeck! Ting!_

"_Dick"_

"_NOOOOOOOOOO" _

Gasping for air, Dick bolted upright and covered his face with his hands as sobs started taking over his body. He was crying, breath coming out in harsh and heavy gasps. '_Alone' _Hugging his knees up to his chest he started rocking himself, desperately trying to get his aching heart under control. He was drenched in sweat and the, seemingly never ending rainfall, made his clothing stick to him like superglue. He was alone. His parents were gone- murdered before his very eyes. He _truly_ was alone for he had no other relatives but his beloved parents. Somehow his tears started to fall even faster by this statement. No longer will he be able to listen to his tati telling him bedtime stories or tugging him in before he hid dreamland. No longer can he seek comfort in the embrace of his mami. No more weird costumes to try, no more training, no more Flying Graysons.

It was gone. His entire fucking life was gone. Ripped from him by Tony Zucco. Just because his parents refused to pay him protection money. Why didn't they just pay him? He would pay all the money in the world just to get his parents back. He was starting to pull at his hair at this point. His sobbing hadn't creased a bit, if anything it was getting worse. 'And after this whole fucked up fiasco where did I end up? As an orphan. As a nine fucking year old orphan crying my eyes out in an abandoned alleyway, in a town I know absolutely nothing about.' Oh how he wished he had the power to turn back time. To go back and just beg Haley to never come to Gotham City. He would forever hate this city. He was here less than 48 hours and he already lost everything that was dear to him.

Finally getting some control on himself, his sobs started to subdue to an occasional hitch as his breathing begins to even out. He needs to get a hang of himself. Crying won't do anything about his current situation. He needs to find a place to stay, maybe an abandoned warehouse or something. So he could start plotting his revenge in peace. He probably should get a job too. He can't plot revenge when he's starving to death now, can he? He looked at his belongings. A shoulder back filled with a small stack of clothes, his costume, some money and his favorite stuffed animal, Zitka. 'To bad I couldn't take the real Zitka with me….'

He shivered as the bitter Gotham wind hit his small, pale face_. _His raven locks stuck to his face as he started trembling in his red sweater and his old ragged black pants. He so desperately wished that he was back home-where it was warm, and soft, and just….happy. Where he was with his parents snuggled with a blanket drinking hot chocolate. He leaned closer in to the graphitized wall behind him. The trash cans in front of him acted like a shield, protecting him from the dangers off the city. _Protection_…..Suddenly he was gone, gone in his own world, filled with happy memories of his family.

Soft, almost unnoticeable footsteps, brought him back to the land of the living. He realized that they are heading his way. He was curious who would be running at this hour of the night- in the rain none the less. Just as he was planning on taking a look over his 'shield' the footsteps disappeared. Okay that was weird. He didn't know much for he was only a nine year old but he knew enough of the world to know that people didn't just disappear. He was starting to think that it was his lack of sleep and constant nightmares that made him believe he heard footsteps, when he heard them again. Only much louder and it seemed that this time there was more than one person headed his way.

Unlike a few minutes ago the footsteps didn't vanish. He took a cautious look over one of the many trash cans that were in front of him. No less than 7 feet away where 20, heavy loaded men. Just his luck. Thinking it would be in his best interested to stay hidden he started to slowly back up to the wall again. Of course, seeing the amount of luck he had experienced over the last couple of days, he just had to accidently bump into one of the trashcans with his foot. He watched in horror as his 'shield' came down faster than a bullet coming out of a gun.

'So much for staying hidden.' He thought to himself. Looking up at the group of thugs in front of him, he tried to find an escape. But all his exit-ways were cut off. 'Is this it? Am I really going to die at the hands of a bunch of drug smuggling mobsters?' Before he had the chance of thinking about anything else two of the thugs leapt at him, but he jumped and scrambled up some boxes so he could have the higher ground. 'Great, now I made myself a moving shooting target.' He managed to dodge a few bullets and jumped on top of a glass container just as a knife flew through the air and embedded itself in the wall right where he had been. 'The hell? Since when were mobster members knife throwers.' This place was getting more dangerous with the minute. He desperately looked around. Praying for an opening so he could make a dash for it, and hope he would make it of the alley before they shot him. 'Oh, who am I kidding. There is absolutely no way I'll make it out of here alive.' He gasped as a bullet grazed his leg, creating a gash on the back of his right calf. His body stilled gritting his teeth he tried not to scream. Looking down, he saw that there was blood starting to drip down his tight. Breathing frantic he came to the realization that this really was going to be the end. He looked at his attackers with wide, terror filled eyes. Looking at it from the bride sight, now he would be reunited with his beloved parents again, that statement gave him the courage to endure this. It's not like he had much of a choice anyways.

A sudden movement caught his eyes. He saw a man dressed in a black pinstripe polyester jacket with a decorative red pocket square. A red, collared dickie fits beneath the jacket and fits in place with a velcro snap behind his neck. A white tie is attached around the neck as well. The polyester pants feature a matching pinstripe pattern. A set of white polyester spats fit over the shoes and secure into place with an elastic band under his foot, and a velcro clasp along the side. A pair of buttons line the side of each spat. The finishing piece to the costume was a fedora styled hat which is black and has a white band.

The man was calmly reloaded his gun-as if it is the most normal thing in the world to shoot a nine year old kid. The creep flashed him a toothy grin, his rotten yellow teeth would probably be the last thing he'd ever lay eyes on before he got shot. 'What a way to go.' He closed his eyes, hoping it would be over soon.

A click of a gun is followed by a deathly silence, and suddenly the air is filled with shouts and shrieks. He quickly reopened his eyes. A small person dressed in a hooded coat was standing over the bodies of five of the, now dead, members. Al five of them are now staring into complete nothingness. No one dared move. Most couldn't because of the shock others where to afraid. The same man who tried to kill him a few moments ago-which he presumed was the leader- seemed to snap out of it and reached for his gun. But before he even had a chance to shoot an arrow was notched in his windpipe. Dropping his gun he grabbed at his throat. He was cowering, bleeding, and gasping for air. The wheezing chocking sounds that came from his lips where awful. He slid down onto his knees and tried, unsuccessfully, to scramble back up. The figure slammed it's bow down on his head, the spine cracked and his skull burst open splattered upon impact.

The same man who looked so threatening just a few moments ago, now lay death in a puddle of blood which was starting to grow larger with every moment. Dick coughed weakly, trying to keep from vomiting. The remaining members tried to make a leap for it but the person simply readied another arrow and fired again. It appeared to be a trick arrow because the next minute a poisonous gas was released. The tugs where reduced to a wheezing and shaking mess on the alley floor. They're chocking and sobbing sounds and petrified looks would forever be engraved into his mind. White foam was starting to drip out of the corner of their mouths. One by one they started to still as they passed on to the next live. The numerous of dead bodies, the split skull and blood puddles in combination with his throbbing leg was starting to make him lightheaded. He slid down the wall, as his legs could not carry his weight anymore.

He crossed eyes with the cloaked, supposedly female figure. Their staring match continued for a while before she took a cautious step forward. Followed by another, and another, until she was standing right in front of him. He was watching through half-lidded eyes as she eyed his wound. "You okay?" A hoarse, raspy voice asked him. He was caught off guard for a moment, was she asking him if he was okay? She who just killed twenty mafia members without blinking asked him if he was okay. This concluded that this day couldn't get any weirder.

He didn't have enough strength to voice his answer so he saddled with shaking his head. She looked conflicted for a moment while biting her lip. 'Cute.' Suddenly she leaned forward and gently scooped him up in her arms, and cradled him close to her chest. He gave a soft whimper as his leg protested in pain. Dick shrank back weakly in her hold, visibly still afraid. "Shh, shh, calm down! It's okay. I won't hurt you, I swear! Don't worry I just want to help you." Was she trying to comfort him?

"Why…why are you helping me?" He croaked. His mind felt numb and his leg was throbbing. "Because I felt like it was something I had to do." He wanted to ask more but could only hiss as the pain in his leg became stronger, and shut his eyes tightly. A gentle tap to his cheek made him moan meekly. "You have to try to stay awake." He opened his eyes and was met with the most beautiful grey eyes he had ever seen. "…hard…" Her eyes immediately softened. "I know but please try until we arrive at my place.

The pain brought him closer and closer in a state of semi-consciousness, drifting between the lines of sleep and awake. He yelped in pain when he felt a needle penetrate his wounded leg. He tried to get up but was pushed down by a firm hand. He felt the most excruciating pain enveloping him and without realizing it he lost consciousness. When he came to again, he registered that he was laying in a small, comfortable bed. His leg was throbbing and was wrapped carefully in a neat, white bandage.

"How's your leg?" a voice exclaimed. He looked up to see those beautiful gray-blue eyes again. Those dark colored eyes belonged to a well toned, blond haired Asian. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she was wearing a dark wash skinny jeans with an emerald green sleeve jersey off the shoulder top. She is beautiful, and by beautiful I mean one of the most beautiful girls you will ever meet. " It hurts a bit." She stood up and I could hear the sound of running water. When she came back she carried a glass of water and a few pills. "This should help, open up." Dick opened his mouth obediently, swallowing the pills with the water the girl poured carefully into his mouth. He licked his lips, and she immediately offered him more water. He drank half of the water, swallow by swallow. She gently wiped away the water that dribbled down his chin with the back of her hand.

"Thanks uhm…."

"My name's Artemis, Artemis Crock."

"Right…thank you Artemis." He tried to sit up, grimaced in pain, and fell back onto the cushions. "Don't try to sit up on your own. Let me help you." She said as she helped him sit up.

"Last night you said that you helped me because you felt like it was something you had to do. Why?" He asked looking at his lap.

"Because I am not the type of person that let's an innocent little kid die."

"….I'm not a little kid."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright then, I couldn't let an innocent boy die. Better?"

"Much"

"So, you got a name?"

A moment of hesitation. "Dick, Dick Grayson."

**A/N: After a two year long break, I'm back with a new story. And what better day to post it than on my crappy birthday. I hope you enjoy. Sorry if I made spelling mistakes, English, and especially Romani, are not my first languages. **


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